


Farrago

by BeeDaily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeDaily/pseuds/BeeDaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A medley of unconnected drabbles focusing on James and Lily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Declaration

**Author's Note:**

> Farrago is an on-going series of unconnected and unrelated drabbles and one-offs that I've written over the years for our favs, Lily and James.

  **Declaration**

She slams her books down on the table next to him, loudly and without any regard for those studying diligently in the library around them. He doesn't jump, but his head jerks up at the sudden sound and he looks at her. She's staring at him with narrowed eyes as she drops herself into the seat next to him, but he refuses to give her what she wants no matter what look she throws his way. He lifts his chin defiantly and glares back.

"James," she hisses.

"I'm not apologising," he responds instantly, stubbornly. "And I'm not taking it back, either."

"Did I ask you to?" she demands, but James isn't stupid. He knows she hasn't been glaring at him for the past twenty-four hours for no reason. She's cross he did it, but he's not sorry, and he won't pretend that he is. He gives her a look that tells her so, and forces himself to stare back down at his textbook.

She lets out an annoyed huff.

"You attacked me," she accuses, sounding petulant. "You attacked me and then you just _walked away_ as if it was all right!"

"Attacked you?" James scoffs, eyes snapping to her sharply. "Lily, I kissed you. I didn't come at you with a Beater's bat."

"For all your consideration, you might as well have done!" she cries, and jerks her head closer to his. Bits of hair have fallen out from the knot she had it pulled back into earlier in the day. The pieces frame her face, deep red and silky. James's fingers itch — they’d liked being weaved through that mane for those few precious seconds yesterday — but he knows better than to let them move now. At least, he hopes he does. Sometimes that’s a problem of his, the knowing better and the doing it anyway. Especially with her. Got him into this whole damned dilemma in the first place, hadn’t it?

James reminds himself not to think of it as a dilemma. It’s was a declaration. There is an important difference.

He leans in closer, until their faces are mere centimeters apart.

“If you keep crowding me like this,” he says, “I’m going to start to think you want me to do it again.”

Lily’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t move. James doesn’t either.

“That was a serious threat,” he warns her. “I’m not kidding. I’ll do it.”

He thinks this will get her to react, if only to shoot him a sour glare and a nasty remark. He’ll take that. He’s expecting it, if he’s being honest. He’d expected it last night, as well, which is why he’d walked away afterwards. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the otherwise rather brilliant moment.

But instead of pulling a face or skinning him bare verbally, Lily does the one thing James honestly had never expected her to. She leans in before he can and closes her mouth over his, quick but hard.

“If you don’t ask me out by the end of the night,” she threatens as she pulls away, already grabbing her books and rising from the library chair, “I’m going to find that Beater’s bat you mentioned before and maim you with it.”


	2. Fraud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the lilyjames_fest's flash fiction round on livejournal. The prompt was "masquerade."

**Fraud**

"You're such a fraud," she says.

James lifts his head from the Transfiguration tome he's been diligently reading, surprised at how startled he is by the sudden interruption. His vision blurs for a moment, but the redhead standing before him soon drifts back into focus.

Bloody hell, how long has he been here?

Lily takes the seat across from him, dropping a stack of library books on the table next to her. The loud _thump_ catches the attention of Pince who—Merlin's beard, he _must_ be dreaming—gives Lily a quelling look before nodding at him in approval. His eyes flash to Lily's in bafflement.

"What?" he asks.

"You. I can't believe this masquerade you've been playing at for so long. And I fell for it." She grabs the topmost book from her pile and flicks it open. It's some massive, dusty, maroon thing. Very Lily-like.

"What're you on about?" James rubs at his eyes beneath his glasses. "What masquerade?"

"The I'm-such-a-twit-don't-know-what-the-library-is-can-barely-even-read gambit." Lily flips idly through the pages in her book. "It's all an act. I should have known. No one can be so smart without trying."

"You think I'm smart, Evans?"

Lily sends him a dry look. "You'll pass."

James grins. Shifting slightly, the groan escapes unintentionally as his muscles burn in protest. He collapses against the chair back, his limbs all floppy. His head lolls back for a moment. His bones crack when he sits up again.

"What time's it?"

"Half past seven."

"Half past—there's no way!"

"Fraud," Lily shoots at him again. She's settled on a page in her first book and grabs a second from her pile. This one has bits of parchment stuck inside to mark pages. She flips to the third marker. "What're you devouring there?" she asks.

James bristles self-consciously. "I haven't been devouring anything."

Lily snorts. "You've been sitting here flipping through that thing for hours, Potter. Save the masquerade for someone else. I've caught on, remember?"

"You've got the wrong idea. I never do this."

"Right. Never. What book is it?"

Resigned (and maybe a little eager. She's speaking to him, isn't she?), James lifts the book from the table so that Lily can view the cover. "Transfiguration," he says.

Lily nods. "Thought so. Perfect."

James lifts his eyebrows. "Perfect?"

In answer, Lily simply thrusts one of her dusty tomes at him. She pokes at one of the passages. "Read that," she says.

Slightly suspicious, James nonetheless does as she orders. It's some sort of Charms theory—complicated as hell from the looks of it. Only Lily would be reading shite like this in her spare time. But as he continues skimming through the passage, some of the words jump out at him. " _Theories of Transfiguration have proven false in the application…with help from Huber's Paradox…"_

"This can't be right," he mutters.

The grin that Lily gives him then is positively dazzling.

"Come along then, Fraud," she says. "We're going to disprove an ancient theory together. Ready?"


	3. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2010 lilyjames_fest's flash fiction round on livejournal. The prompt was: _"Morning without you is a dwindled dawn."_ [Emily Dickinson]

**Cold**

She's perfectly aware how utterly pathetic it sounds, but she stirs awake in the morning without him, and suddenly feels cold.

She tells herself she's being dramatic—cold in the _head_ , is what she is—but the feeling persists despite her self-scolding. She burrows further into her blankets, cocooning the soft cotton around her body in a proper swaddle. If James were there, she wouldn't be able to do this. He's a covers hog, selfish in sleep despite the noticeable changes he's made awake. He's also a fidgeter, constantly draping some limb or another over hers in an accidental (or perhaps deliberate) embrace. Add these to the fact that they never quite manage to get much _sleeping_ done whenever he stays with her, and Lily's almost convinced herself that her dawns are best greeted alone.

Almost.

She doesn't much minds his cover hogging, actually—not when she has his body to keep her warm. And despite the surprise of waking up with entangled limbs, she relishes the moments when he lets her rest her cold toes against his warm calves, knowing that he only makes the hissing protests for show.

As for her lack of sleep…well, some things are worth waking up groggy for. _Quite_ worth it.

_He's with Remus_ , she reminds herself, forcing her eyes closed again as she shifts restlessly against the pillows. _Full moon. He's being a good friend. Quit being such a peagoose._

But she can't help it. The dawn dwindles by slowly. She lies there in a half-sleeping state. She isn't certain for how long.

The sudden crash springs her awake.

"Bloody fucking— _ow_."

Her heart hammers, fading slowly to a softer pulse when she recognizes the familiar voice. Warmth floods through her.

"James?" she calls.

He grumbles and swears. "Yeah. Sorry. Ruddy _hairbrush_. Stupid _bugger_ —"

With a few additional oaths, he collapses onto the bed next to her, his heavy weight causing the mattress to shift slightly. His hair is wet and the smell of soap radiates off him. He nestles up next to her, absently nuzzling the curve between her neck and shoulder. A few stray water droplets dampen her nightshirt as his cool lips press against her skin.

"Hey," he murmurs, tugging feebly at her blanket cocoon. "Lemme under there."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Sleeping."

"Just sleeping?"

James groans. "Been running bloody marathons all night, Lil. Can't do it. Too knackered. Tomorrow. Few hours. Promise."

Lily presses her lips together. "You've your own bed, don't you?"

James's teeth sink into her neck, a light nip. "M'bed's cold. Need you."

"James—"

"Shhh. Night."

The sun's come up, but despite the growing light, he falls asleep quickly. Somehow, he maneuvers most of the blanket out from beneath her. Lily huddles up against him with her paltry part, sighing contently. His arm snakes around her stomach and pulls her closer.

She's warm. (It's probably the sun.)


	4. Liam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2010 lilyjames_fest's flash fiction round on livejournal. The prompt was Lily's cat.

**Liam**

An enchantment. That must be it. He'd bewitched her cat.

"I didn't know you had a pet, Evans." Potter bent, skimming his fingers along the cat's coppery fur as he sat on the sofa in their new common room. Lily unpacked her books into the shelves lining one wall. Potter plucked the feline off the ground, plopping him unceremoniously onto his lap. "What's his name?"

"Liam. But don't do that. He's not really..." Liam shifted, then settling contently across Potter's thighs. Lily cocked an eyebrow, "...friendly."

Potter stroked Liam's head. "Chin up, mate. She doesn't speak the best of me, either."

Lily adored Liam, really she did, but she was the first to admit that her cat was ornery at best, often times worse. He and Lily had bonded from the start, but Liam only tolerated a select few others. Her roommates had complained constantly about her grouchy pet, and Lily had suspected it would be the same with the Head Boy. But for whatever reason, Potter and Liam hit it off straight away. Their polar opposite personalities somehow meshed.

Liam became James's.

"Quit stealing my cat!" Lily stormed into his bedroom one afternoon, scooping Liam off the bed where he'd been — as usual — lounging about with James. Liam mewed in protest. Lily clutched him protectively against her chest.

Potter sighed. "Honestly, Evans. We were doing our essay."

"Honestly, Potter, get your own pet!"

"You know, instead of dragging poor Liam off, you could just join us." The grin pulled at the corners of Potter's lips. He patted the empty space beside him. "Bed fits three."

Lily slammed the door on her way out.

But for all that her position as superior human had been usurped, sometimes Lily understood why Liam favoured James Potter. The bloke had his faults, but she could reluctantly admit that he wasn't as giant a blighter as she'd once imagined. He could be genuinely charming when he tried, and though he still laced most of his comments with some sort of double-entendre, Lily found herself minding it less.

Liam had taken to sleeping in James's room, so when Lily woke up early one morning to find her cat patrolling her bed, she was instantly suspicious.

"What? Been kicked out?" She nestled beneath her covers, bitter. "Don't come crying to me."

The crash sounded as Liam purred angrily.

Lily threw on her dressing gown and stumbled down the stairs, Liam trailing at her heels. Even in the pale dawn light, James's collapsed body and the pained expression donning his face were immediately recognizable—so was the red stain blooming down his trouser leg.

"James!" Lily dashed forward, rounding the fallen lamp and crouching next to James's body. Liam followed, mewing loudly.

Sweat glistened across Potter's forehead. "Oy. Tattling, Liam?" His voice was weak. "Bad form, mate."

Lily went for the injury, carefully lifting the bloodied material. The gash was deep.

"He's saving your _life_ , idiot," she muttered.

"Love that cat," Potter wheezed, before he passed out.


	5. The Badge Fiasco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2010 lilyjames_fest's flash fiction round on livejournal. The prompt was Head Girl badge.

**The Badge Fiasco**

 

Originally, he'd swiped it as a lark.

" _Damn_ it." She crawls about their common room floor, making a rather fine picture as she scurries and swears on her hands and knees. James leans against the doorjamb, taking a moment to admire her bum.

"Looking for something, Evans?" he asks innocently.

Her answer is muffled—hardly surprising considering her upper-half is buried beneath the sofa. "Go'way."

"A new game, then? Can't I join?"

Lily's lower-half shimmies, her upper-half reappearing soon afterwards. She's scowling. "Must everything be a joke to you?" she demands, rising swiftly to her feet. She wastes no time in grabbing the sofa cushions, tossing them aside. "Honestly. Such a _child_."

James frowns. "Seems to me that _you're_ the one who's lost something, Evans. Hope it wasn't important."

Lily glares at him. "Bugger _off_ , Potter."

James bristles, temper rising as he strides up the stairs to his bedroom. He fingers the Head Girl badge hidden deep inside his pocket. Once upstairs, he stashes it in his trunk.

From then on, James makes sure to flash his Head Boy badge whenever Lily's near. Weeks pass. Sometimes, he catches her searching the rooms again. He feels guilty until she makes another one of her biting remarks—that's when he gives his badge an extra waxing.

About a month into term, there's a knock on his door. He opens it to find Lily on the other side. Her face is red.

"Have you seen my badge?" she asks.

James's hand goes to his hair. "Er, no. Lost it?"

"It's been missing for weeks. I don't…you sure?" Something crosses her face. Her voice squeaks. James's stomach rolls uncomfortably. Instinctively, his hand falls to her shoulder.

"Evans?" he asks. "You—"

The tears come instantaneously.

"Oh, _God_." Her hands fly up to cover her face, but her shoulders shake and the sobs hack at her words. "God, I d-don't even know w-what I'm _doing_. I d-don't… _shit_. Can't e-even keep my _badge_! I s-shouldn't be H-head _Girl_."

James panics, recoils in confusion. "Lily, come on. Don't—"

"It's a s-sign," she whispers, tears streaming. "I'm shite. No one listens to m-me. Not like you. I can't…c-can't—"

"Fuck up?" James interrupts, hardly believing what he's hearing. "Because that's all I do, Evans. And you…you're perfect. Meant for this. Honestly."

Lily shakes her head. "No. I—"

" _Yes_." He wipes clumsily at her tears. "You'll find it. You're brilliant. Truly."

Later, after she's left, James stashes the badge in the common room. The next morning, Lily's delighted cries reach his room.

"All right, Evans?" he calls down the stairs. She appears suddenly, victoriously waving the badge aloft.

"Look! I've found it!" A brilliant smile spreads across her lips.

James smiles, too. "Must be a sign," he says.

Lily laughs."Yeah, maybe."

Her eyes twinkle at him before she turns around and disappears.

One night, after Lily's rocked Harry to sleep and they're sitting contently in their den, James confesses his part in the badge fiasco.

He spends the night on the sofa.


	6. Florigraphy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2011 lilyjames_fest's first drabble round on livejournal.

**Florigraphy**

In the end, they settle on twelve separate blooms.

James finds reasons to second-guess each flower by turn, doubting this one, then that, but Professor Sprout—having recovered quite nicely from the surprise that the cryptic note she'd received this morning from the Head Boy was actually a desperate plea for aid in florigraphy—stands firmly by their bunch.

"She'll love them," she says, handing over the finished bouquet. "They're just right."

Now, however, standing before Lily in the middle of breakfast, thrusting the bouquet of clashing flowers blindly beneath her nose, James reckons it's his sanity that needs second-guessing.

"Oh." Lily blinks, staring blankly at the bouquet. Slowly, she takes them from him. "How...eclectic."

"They're meaningful," James says, flushing.

"Meaningful?"

He nods, babbling uncontrollably. "That one there—er, gladiolus, it's called. It means respect. Because I respect you. And that one, the daisy. It means patience, which...well, you are. With me. And that yellow one there—can't remember what it's called—but it's the flower of friendship. Which I'm glad we are. And the orchid, that means beauty, and those little blue ones mean 'thank you'—"

"As in, 'Thank you for the snog. Here are some flowers. Let's do it again?'" Lily asks.

James chokes. "What? No! No, I—well, I mean, _yes_. But, no! That's not...Shit." He swears desperately, sensing that she could just as easily slap him as snog him now and he hasn't the faintest which one she's presently leaning towards. He considers swearing again. A shaky hand fists his hair. He's such a wanker. But what else was he supposed to do? You don't spend the evening ravishing the witch of your dreams, then just wake up the next morning and go eat porridge. He wanted to do something special. Something meaningful.

But now Lily thinks he's mental, he's not certain she's wrong, and he's almost positive Sirius just flipped him off behind Lily's shoulder which means the others have told him about last night and now he's in trouble. The whole morning's a cock-up.

James sighs, wilting visibly. He's on the verge of apologising—what for, he's not certain, but it seems the thing to do—when suddenly, Lily speaks.

"What about this one?" she asks, pointing. "This red one. What does it mean?"

She's asking about the red carnation, the one James knows quite well means romance and passion—his favourite—but he answers, "Don't remember."

Lily hums noncommittally. "Well. Thank you for the flowers." Abruptly, she thrusts her hand into the bouquet. She grips the little blue flowers from the bunch, pulling out the stalk and passing it over to him. "They're beautiful"—she does the same with the orchid, hands it to him—"I respect you, too"—the gladiolus—"and while I'm glad we're friends"—the unnamed yellow—"I'm actually not that patient"—the daisy—"and would rather be more"—the carnation—"so just ask me out, all right?"

She turns easily, leaving him there, taking his heart with her.


	7. It Happened One Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in honour of Lasya's birthday. Happy birthday, Lasya! =)

**It Happened One Morning**

 

"Hey, Evans. Do a bloke a favour?"

The question comes at Lily far too early in the morning for her to have even a modicum of a sense of humour about it. Her eyes are droopy, she hasn't had her caffeine yet, and she's rather certain that she forgot to brush her hair this morning. She's tired, disheveled, and irritable. As such, she shifts instantly from glaring mutinously down at her breakfast to glaring mutinously up at James Potter, but neither is particularly satisfying. Things do not improve when Potter decides to take the seat next to her. Growling is a semi-serious option. She opts for sarcasm instead.

"Let me guess." She sticks a spoonful of porridge into her mouth to delay the inevitable, playing at thinking seriously. "You're lonely. Can't I keep you company? Or have you lost your heart and think I might know where it is? Wait. Better yet, you've lost your bed, and would like my assistance in finding it. Any of these forthcoming?"

Potter chuckles appreciatively, casually grabbing a slice of uneaten toast from her plate and taking a hefty bite. "No, not quite," he answers, still chewing. "Though I reserve the right to revisit these requests at a future date. I'm afraid this one is actually quite dull in comparison."

"Nothing's ever dull with you," Lily mutters, swiping her toast back as he goes to take another bite. But now it's got his saliva on it and so she tosses it purposefully off to the side. Potter doesn't seem to care. In fact, he grins. Lily scowls. "Ask your smarmy question and promptly please shove off then, Potter. It's early, I'm tired, and you are a perpetual headache."

"Quite the little sprig of sunshine, aren't you?" Potter replies, but his tone is more amused than it is irritated and Lily isn't certain why. What's more, he actually does as she asks. "The favour is a legitimate one, actually," he starts. "See, yesterday in Charms—"

He keeps talking—Lily's mind can still absorb the continued deep timbre of his voice—but when he suddenly moves, reaches out to grab a mug and then the heated canteen of fresh coffee resting on the table, Lily doesn't register anything more. Instead, she's strangely distracted by the quick movements of his hands—swift, seamless, somehow mesmerizing movements—as he easily pours the steaming brew into the mug, drops two sugar cubes inside, gives the coffee a quick swirl with a spoon, and then proceeds to top off the mixture with a drab of milk.

Funny, because that's just how _she_ takes her—

He extends the mug out to her.

"So what do you think?" Lily's gaze snaps from his hands to his face for the first time. He's staring questioningly at her. His voice is forming words again. "Can you help?"

"How did you know that?" she blurts out.

Potter's eyebrows pucker further. "Er, what?"

Lily motions to the coffee, which he's still holding out to her. "That. The coffee. How did you know how I take my coffee?"

"Coffee?" Potter glances suddenly down at the mug in his hand as if he'd just realised it was there. His perturbed expression clears quickly, however, replaced by an easy nonchalance. "Oh. Dunno. Just do, I s'ppse. Did I get it wrong?"

"No."

"So what's the problem?"

Lily isn't certain herself, but her stomach is clenching uncomfortably and she doesn't think it's from early morning indigestion. "No one drinks coffee. Everyone has tea," she says.

"There isn't much caffeine in tea," Potter points out, pushing the steaming mug at her again. "You're a grouch enough as is in the mornings. Do us all a favour and keep with the coffee, Lily. Please."

And now he knows she isn't a morning person. And he's called her Lily.

"It's too early for this," she grumbles, finally grabbing the mug from Potter and taking a hefty gulp. The coffee burns as it fills her mouth and slips down her throat, but the sensation is better than the alternative. She nurses the mug diligently.

"Well?" Potter prompts after a few moments. Lily glances briefly at him.

"Well, what?" she asks.

"Charms, Evans."

"What about it?"

Potter shoots her an annoyed look—his first of the morning. "You weren't listening to me at all, were you?"

After a moment's hesitation, Lily shrugs. Potter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Substantive Charms, Evans. Yesterday's lesson? Recall it?" At Lily's brief nod, he continues. "I haven't the faintest how to get it right. My notes are rubbish, probably because Peter was doodling on them, and Remus was ill and doesn't know the spell. Give a dim fellow a few instructions, would you? Or at least let me copy your notes so I can bumble through it on my own."

His tone is pleading and his expression disarmingly sincere, but for some reason, Lily can't take her eyes off his lips. They're thin, but firm looking. Interesting. She's never noticed that before. He's got a sturdy jaw, as well—long, sharp, but sturdy. He's always had a pleasant face, of course, but she's never really given it much thought before. Especially those lips. And what it might be like to—

"Evans? Lily? All right?"

Lily jumps. In her surprise, she drops the coffee mug and gasps as it clatters noisily onto the table, the burning liquid fortunately spilling in the opposite direction of her lap. She swears loudly and springs from her seat, but Potter is quicker. He's on his feet as well and has already whipped out his wand to clean up the mess. Lily's heart is pounding and she's sputtering helplessly. She swears more in her head.

Merlin, what the bloody hell is _wrong_ with her?

Potter's hand drops onto her arm and Lily flinches. He doesn't move it, though.

"All right?" he asks instead, sounding concerned. "It didn't get you, did it?"

Lily shakes her head numbly, not trusting her mouth. James chuckles somewhat uneasily.

"Right. Good. We can talk about this later, though. I reckon you still need a bit more time to wake up."

"Yeah, reckon so," Lily agrees mutedly, slowly retaking her seat. Potter remains on his feet, but he doesn't immediately move away. Instead, he busies himself with making Lily another mug of coffee. When he's successfully repeated the earlier process, he hands it to her. Lily takes it straight away this time.

"Thanks."

"Just trying to butter you up so that you'll agree to help later," James replies with a jaunty grin, but Lily isn't certain that she believes him. It makes her feel hot and claustrophobic, but someone with such ulterior motives probably wouldn't have announced them so cavalierly. Not when they could've gotten the credit for generosity.

"Careful with that one, yeah?" Potter claps a friendly hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently. Lily doesn't flinch this time, though she considers it. His hand soon drops in order to give her a quick, parting wave. "S'later."

Lily doesn't answer. She stares mutely down at her coffee instead, sensing rather than seeing Potter finally walk off. After a moment, she places her coffee carefully down on the table before lowering her forehead onto the hard surface. She strongly considers a few purposeful bangs.

"Hey, Evans?"

Lily lifts her head instantly, twisting around in her seat. Potter's stopped just a bit farther down the table.

"What?" she calls.

He grins at her.

"I've lost my bed. Mind helping find it?"


	8. Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2011 lilyjames_fest's second drabble round on livejournal.

**Proud**

            Really, he should know better by now than to wager with Sirius.

            "Welcome to Puddifoot's. What can I get you?"

            Someone clears their throat. Up until now, James has maintained a strict policy of keeping his eyes trained on his notepad to avoid the humiliation of actual eye contact. But at this light hemming sound—this _familiar_ , light hemming sound—his gaze darts up automatically. He very much regrets the impulse when he meets the amused emeralds staring back at him, and even more so when he sees the blighter seated across from her.

            Lily's lips twitch tellingly. Her eyes rove him. "Nice apron," she says.     

            James glances down at the bright pink apron Puddifoot had thrust at him this morning. He refuses to flush. "Thanks. My colour, no?"

            "Definitely. New job?"

            "Lost bet. Sirius conned Puddifoot into taking me for the day."

            "Haven't you learned not to wager with that cheat yet?"

            "Apparently not."

            Lily smiles. She's opening her mouth to say something more—

            "What do you suggest?" Bertram Aubrey interrupts loudly, cutting Lily off and giving James a baleful stare. James sneers at him, wishing he could swipe the plastic menu from the tosser's fingers and slice him with it. But that won't win him points with anyone—Puddifoot _or_ Lily—so he resists the urge.

            "The flapjacks," James barks. "Tea's not rubbish, either."

            "We'll have the Cauldron of Love Set," Aubrey declares—just to be contrary, undoubtedly. His spite is about to blow up in his face, though. James watches as Lily flinches, then scowls in annoyance. Besides the fact that she abhors coffee and prefers scones to treacle, only an ignorant twat would think Lily Evans would tolerate being ordered for.

            James waits for her to snap, but Aubrey's already shooing him. "Run off, Potter."

            "You—"

            " _Off_."

            It's a sound dismissal, and Lily silently stews instead of speaking up for either of them. James wishes he was surprised, but he knows Lily and her pride too well—too proud to defend James because of what it might mean (and it _does_ mean something, despite what she insists), and certainly too proud to row with Aubrey while James is there. It's almost enough to grab the nearest boiling teapot and dump it over his own head.

            Instead, he leaves, burning-by-teapot postponed.

            Soon after, James sweeps back to the table with a True Love Cream Tea and a blistering temper. He places the kettle and the plate of scones in front of Lily. He can feel her eyes on him. Aubrey is frowning.

            "This isn't what I ordered."

            "No, it's what _she_ ordered," James snaps, nodding at Lily. "Or what she _would_ have done, had you bothered to ask."

            "James," Lily says.

            He doesn't even look at her. He storms off.

            It's only a few minutes later, while he's crossly throwing together another tea service, that he feels the tap on his shoulder. Angrily, he whirls around.

            Lily is nibbling her lip.

            "Need any help?" she asks.


	9. Rummage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the lilyjames_fest's third drabble challenge on livejournal. The prompt was Lily and James's wedding invitation (dated 10 March 1979)

**A Quick Rummage**

 

                Truthfully, she'd forgotten about it entirely until, rummaging through her rucksack in search of the quill she'd filched from him yesterday, James jokingly remarks that he hopes she's not hiding anything embarrassing in there.

                She lunges.

                "I'll find it!" Her chair nearly topples over at the inelegant dive, but Lily somehow manages not only to successfully seize her rucksack strap, but _also_ to remain off her arse doing so, an improbable victory. She gives the strap a forceful yank and the bag jerks out of James's grasp. She hopes her thin-lipped smile doesn't look as manic as it feels. "It's probably at the bottom. Such a mess."

                James's hands are frozen mid-rummage. "Evans?"

                "Hm?" Lily buries her very red face in the bag.

                "What exactly do you _have_ in there?"

                Lily snorts dismissively—"In here? Come off it, Potter!"—but she's grateful for the shield her hair is providing as she briefly glances up because dear _Merlin_ , she's too easy to read and this _cannot_ be happening. She _knew_ she should have burnt the damn thing to ashes the very second Marlene had passed it to her during History. But instead, Lily had just shot her mate a dirty look and jammed the stupid thing between the pages of an old Charms tome before anyone could see. There it had remained since class this morning, untouched between the brittle slabs of bound parchment for any rucksack ransacker to find.

                Well... _mostly_ untouched, anyway.

                Lily may have...she may have flipped open the tome a few times—for scholarly purposes only, of course! And if she happened to come across Marlene's poor attempt at a joke in the process...well, it wasn't as if she'd _gawked_ at it or anything. She'd just had a nice laugh. Bloody daft Marlene. The girl had clearly lost it.

                And _as if_ Lily would ever be married at bloody _nineteen_. What was she? Knocked-up?

                _Oh dear_ god _, you depraved twat, why would you even think that?_

                Lily buries her head farther in the rucksack.

                "Illegal potions, isn't it?" James is guessing, thankfully unaware of the direction her thoughts have just taken. "Sipping the speed? Sampling liquid hallucinogens?"

                "You've caught me."

                "Or is it dirty magazines?" Lily can hear the smirk in his voice. " _Playwitch_ , perhaps?"

                "Oh, yes. In here, too. A couple of them."

                "Or maybe—"

                "Ah-ha!" Lily brandishes the stolen quill jubilantly, waving it aloft as she immediately shoves her rucksack to the floor and kicks it beneath the table, safely hidden. She passes the quill over to James. "There you go. Quill's returned. Now bugger off."

                "But now I have a question," James says.

                Lily sticks him with a baleful stare. "Yes, Potter, there is a drug for that little problem of yours and I'll see if I can drudge it up."

                "Thank you," he replies quickly. "But while you're at it..."

                "Yes?"

                "Would you mind terribly changing our wedding date? Invitation says 10 March. Remus's birthday. He'd be terribly forlorn if we usurped it."


	10. Sunstroke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a drawing by astralsymphony.

**Sunstroke**

It's the end of October and the decent weather is hanging on by the barest of threads. Every spare moment, students seem to be flocking towards the grounds like droves of the starving to a welcoming feast. Lily has always thought herself above such antics—she doesn't mind the cold, never has—but that afternoon, her skin itches for sun. The sight of green grass and bright sky taunts her. She has History in three minutes and has never felt so resentful.

"Thinking of making a run for it?" someone asks, and Lily doesn't turn when she feels James Potter sidle up next to her. Her eyes remain fixated outside the window, but sometimes she thinks he smells a bit like a summer's day and her skin tingles more.

"Probably one of the last decent days we'll have, and we have to miss it."

"Do we?" he asks.

Her eyes leave the grounds only long enough to shoot him a look. "Chap called Binns? Remember him?"

The sudden grin that spreads across Potter's face has Lily's insides squirming.

"'So sorry, Professor,'" he says, already taking a step backwards as he grabs her hand. "'Evans and I were called away on Head business. Remus has promised us his notes.'"

"Potter, _no_ —"

But she goes with him, because the sun and something else is calling for her to.

They find an empty patch of grass just off the lake, one whose view from the castle is obscured by a large elm placed just so. James immediately throws himself onto the ground and spreads his arms wide. Lily takes a moment to strip off her shoes and socks before doing the same. They lay side by side for a while, breathing in the soft autumn air. The sun heats Lily's skin like a sensual stroke, heady and tantalizing. The moment couldn't be more perfect, and she suddenly realises that she means the company, as well. The thought should worry her, but doesn't.

Later, when they've had their dose of outdoor magic and chatted about classes and friends and Lily's found herself telling him about the letter she got from Mum that morning about Petunia's wedding, he leans over to kiss her. Their feet are tangled and Lily's stomach hurts from laughing and for whatever reason, she lets him do it. Their lips brush and she finds that he tastes a bit like summer, too. She wants to call it sunstroke, but she knows it's something else and for the first time, she doesn't mind.


	11. A Burned Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a drawing by astralsymphony. Enjoy! =)

**A Burned Image**

 

She spots them purely by accident, an unfortunate run-in in the narrow corridor just off the main Potions classrooms. Concentrating as she is on trying to remember whether it was indeed the Potions dungeons where she’d left her library book earlier, Lily isn’t paying much attention. She only vaguely notes that the quick clip of her footsteps is no longer the only sound reverberating off the stone dungeon walls and that she is not alone in the lower hallway. Her mind registers the high-pitched giggling only a moment before she turns the corner and sees Liza Alton dragging James Potter’s grinning lips down to hers.

There is frantic blinking and a burned image, but Lily keeps walking.

“An entire castle filled with empty classrooms and _this_ is where you choose to carry on?” Her voice is heavily droll. The couple springs apart, Liza giggling and James looking amusedly chastised. Lily rolls her eyes. “Honestly?”

“Don’t mind her,” James says, shooting a friendly grin Lily’s way. “Bit of a voyeur, our Lily is.”

“Don’t make me dock points, James,” Lily replies. “Gryffindor’s already in sad straits.”

She receives another grin and a short salute for her lenience. An embarrassed Liza quickly tugs James away. Lily continues on through the corridors.

But over the next few days, Lily begins to feel a bit like the voyeur James had accused her of being. That burned image—that _damn_ unsettling picture of James Potter and Liza Alton snogging in a corridor—is suddenly her brain’s default. She’s never paid much attention to the nuances of James Potter’s features—dark hair, nose, eyes, and mouth all in their proper places—but suddenly, it’s all she can do but constantly stare at the boy, examining the every slope of his face.

He has a long jaw, one that angles sharply at the chin. He’s let his hair grow longer this term, the messy locks brushing just past his ears. And his lips…they’re firm lips. A bit thin, maybe, but as her memory hasn’t quite let her forget, thorough nonetheless.

Looking back, it was really only a matter of time, but the morning she wakes up and realises that the burned image has finally infiltrated her dreams, Lily’s shocked. Worse, it’s no longer Liza Alton dragging James Potter’s firm lips down to hers. As she remembers her fingers brushing along that sharp jaw and sifting through that dark hair, her own lips testing out the firmness of his, Lily buries her face in her hands and groans loudly.


	12. Less Than Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on another drawing of Ashley's (astrasymphony). Enjoy!

**Less Than Perfect**

"Your ears are overly large, did you know that?"

James cracked open an eye. "I'm sorry?"

Lily shifted on top of him, propping an elbow next to his head. Her chin fell into her palm. "Your ears," she said. "They're large. Enormous, even."

"My ears are bloody _fine_."

"They're really not." She shifted again—to get a better look at his ear, James suddenly realised, and instantly batted her away. But the girl proved determined. She merely swung around to gawk at the other one. "I can't believe I've never noticed before. They're positively _disproportionate_."

"They're _fine_." But James's hand seemed to lift of its own accord, tracing the outline of the appendage with uncertain fingers. Lily's grin broadened. James's hand snapped back down to the bed. "They're _not_!"

"Oh, don't have a cry about it. It's not _complete_ rubbish." Lily's fingers followed the same path his had. "I bet your hearing's stellar."

"Your eyes are squinty," James returned, catching her hand. "And you've the longest, boniest fingers I've ever seen. Like claws."

"Is that the best you've got?"

James sifted his hand through her hair. " _And_ you're a ginger."

He earned an indelicate snort at that, one muffled against his shirtfront as Lily dropped her elbow and buried her face against his chest. James kept his fingers hidden amidst the ging. Her claws scraped a gentle pattern against the skin above his collar.

"Just face it," she said. "You've got big ears and shitty wit. I'm better looking and infinitely more clever. You're never going to do better than me, Potter. Not ever."

"We'll see, Evans."


End file.
